


Our Song

by Jellybean96



Series: A Week of Skyeward [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Mother/Daughter relationship, Philinda is implied, Romance, Skyeward Week, Tumblr Prompt: Record Player
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellybean96/pseuds/Jellybean96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day Five of Skyeward Week. Prompt: Record Player.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Song

**Author's Note:**

> Not much Skyeward until the end, but I think the whole thing is still pretty cute. :)

The loud crying of the one year old child pulls the older woman from her thoughts. Standing from her chair in the living room, Melinda makes her way down the hallway into her daughters room. Stepping into the room, she finds the small child standing up in her crib, crying loudly, a few tears falling down her face.

"Hey there," she smiles softly at her daughter. "What's wrong, little one?" she steps forward, lifting her daughter out of the crib.

The little girl continues to cry, despite being held snuggly against her mothers' chest. "What's wrong, Skye?" She asks her daughter.

Skye leans back in her mothers' arms, holding her own tiny arms out to the side. Melinda follows her daughters' gaze, looking over to see the record player that is sitting on the shelf against one wall of the room.

She smiles in recognition, "Oh I see. You want your song, don't you?" She sees her daughter keep reaching. "Okay, okay." She walks over to the record player, opening the lid of it. She flips the switch on the side of the machine to turn it on. The record already on it starts spinning. She carefully sets the needle down on the edge of the record, listening as a soft song slowly begins to play.

When she hears the opening chords of the song, little Skye's cries begins to soften, and she lies her head on her mothers' chest.

Melinda smiles down at her daughter, "You love listening to your record, huh." She watches as Skye's eyes slowly begin to droop closed while she listens to the song. "I guess it was a good thing that when your daddy found this in your grandmothers things he decided to have it restored."

Looking at the front of the record player, Melinda's eye catches the inscription she had put there when she found out she was pregnant and smiles at it.

_To my little one. May you always have love in your heart. As well as a good song. Love, mom._

* * *

Stepping off of the school bus, eight year old Skye walks down the sidewalk towards her house trying to hide her tears from her mom. She's standing in the doorway waiting for her to enter the house.

"How was Picture Day?" She says to Skye.

Skye shrugs, "It was okay," she says through her sniffles.

"What's the matter, Skye?" Melinda asks, her brow furrowing.

"Johnny was mean to me again," she tells her mom. "He told me that my hair looked stupid," she tugs on one of her curls that her mom did for her that morning, "and that my clothes were ugly," she looks down at the outfit she had picked out for herself. "He made me cry."

"Come here," Melinda holds her arms out to Skye. The little girl drops her backpack just inside the door and then climbs into her mom's arms. Melinda shifts Skye onto her hip, so that she can look at her. "I'm sorry you got picked on today," she says to her daughter. "If it makes you feel any better, I think that you look absolutely beautiful. You look just like me when I was your age."

Skye gives him a small smile, "Thanks mommy."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now, let's see what you have to do for homework today. I'm sure you at least have some reading to do."

"Can I listen to my song first?" Skye asks her.

"Hmm," she pretends to think. "I don't know. You should probably do your homework first."

"Please, mommy? I'm really sad." She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, and makes her eyes slightly bigger.

Melinda bites back a chuckle at Skye's ploy of playing to her cuteness, "Alright," she agrees. "But just one time, okay? Then you need to do your homework."

"Thanks mommy," Skye smiles, hugging her around the neck.

"You're welcome, little one."

* * *

Peering out the living room window again, sixteen year old Skye lets out a heavy sigh. She shuts the curtains, backing away from the window. Turning around, she walks over to where her two best friends are sitting on the couch, talking quietly to one another.

"Is he still not here?" Jemma speaks up.

Skye nods her head, falling into the chair next to them, "He said he'd be here at 6:30. It's almost 7:30. He's an hour late."

"Maybe he got caught in traffic," Jemma replies, trying to remain optimistic.

"Do you actually think that, Jem?" Fitz speaks up from beside her, "Or are you just saying that to try and make Skye feel better?"

"Well, I mean, it's a possibility, isn't it?"

"It's fine, Jem," Skye assures her friend, "You don't need to try and make me feel better. I should have known he'd be late. I just hope he gets here soon enough."

"Do you want us to keep waiting with you?" Fitz asks.

Skye shakes her head, "No, you guys go on ahead. Don't let me keep you from enjoying your Prom. Besides, I'm only a junior. Senior year prom is the one that is supposed to be magical."

"If you're sure," Jemma says.

"I am," Skye tells them. "Go, enjoy your night."

"Alright," Jemma says, standing up from the couch. "We hope to see you there."

"Don't worry if you don't," Skye tells her.

"Come on then, Fitz," Jemma says to her boyfriend, "Let's get going." Fitz stands from the couch, and the two of them make their way out the front door and to Fitz's car.

Less than a second later, Skye's phone goes off in her purse. She reaches inside to pull her phone out. Looking at it, she sees a new text message.  _Sorry babe. Can't go tonight. Something came up. Also, I don't think this is working anymore. Nothing personal._

"Unbelievable," she says quietly, slipping the phone back into her purse. She stands from the couch, leaving her purse on the couch and makes her way up to her bedroom. When she gets into her room, she lies down on her bed, closing her eyes, trying to not let the tears fall from her eyes.

A knock on her doorframe makes her open her eyes. She looks over to see her mom standing in the doorway. "Hey sweetheart," she says, stepping into the room.

"Hey mom," she smiles sadly.

"I take it he isn't coming."

Skye shakes her head, "No. He isn't. I don't know why I thought he would, though. He's not really one for dance and things." She feels the tears beginning to fall. "But for some reason I thought this time would be different. And to make matters worse, he broke up with. Through a text, on Prom night."

"I'm so sorry, Skye. Maybe next year will be different. Maybe you'll meet a different guy who will actually show up on time to take you to the dance and won't break your heart."

Skye shrugs, "Whatever."

Melinda walks into the room and over to the record player, turning it on and setting the needle on it.

The music starts to play, and she walks over to Skye's bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Skye instantly crawls over to her mother, laying her head in her lap. She continues to cry, her makeup streaming down her face.

"Shh," Melinda says soothingly, running her hands lovingly through Skye's hair. "It's okay, little one, I've got you."

* * *

Stacking another box on top of the pile in her room, seventeen year old Skye smiles at her progress. "That's the last one," she says to no one in particular.

"Have you finished packing yet, Skye?" Melinda questions as she steps into the doorway of her daughters' bedroom.

Skye turns to her mother and smiles, "Yep. I think so. I've got my suitcases with clothes and things that I'm taking with me, and my backpack and laptop bag. I've got my bedding too. Then I have all of these boxes," she gestures to the small stack of boxes, "with things to either give away, or keep packed up until whenever. I left some things out though."

Melinda looks around the room that her daughter grew up, seeing how different it looks now that things are packed up. "I'm surprised you aren't taking your record player," she says, noticing the item still sitting on its shelf.

Skye looks over at it and smiles, "I thought about bringing it with me. But I don't want to risk someone in my dorm accidentally breaking it because they were being an idiot. And as much as I really want to take it with me, I also don't want to risk losing it on the train, or it getting broken or something."

"Okay," Melinda smiles softly. "One last time then," she walks over to the record player, turning it on and placing the needle. "Just for the heck of it."

Skye smiles as she watches her mother move over to her stripped down bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Melinda pats the bed next to her, and Skye gladly moves over, sitting down next to her. Resting her head on her mom's shoulder, Skye lets out a happy sigh, "I'm gonna miss you and daddy."

"We're gonna miss you too, little one."

* * *

Pushing the door to her apartment open, nineteen year old Skye tosses her school bag onto the chair in the living room, setting her laptop bag down on the dining room table.

"Is your roommate around?" The guy behind her, Grant, asks as he steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

"No," she says to him, "She's usually out partying at this time of day."

"But it's just barely past noon," he tells her, setting his things down and making his way to the fridge in the kitchen.

"I know," Skye sighs, "sometimes I wonder how she's still even enrolled here." She moves over to the couch in the living room, falling down onto it, kicking her shoes off as she does so.

"You okay?" Grant asks her, stepping over to the couch, a glass of water in his hand.

"Just stressed about this class," she looks up at him, "I don't know why I actually decided to take it."

"Because it'll help you in the long run?" He suggests, sitting down next to her, placing his glass down on the side table next to him.

"You think I don't already know that?" She says, tilting her head to look over at him.

"Just trying to help," he smiles at her.

"I know you are, babe," she smiles back, leaning over to kiss him.

Feeling her phone go off in her pocket, Skye breaks from the kiss, pulling her phone out of her front pants pocket. Glancing at the caller id, she smiles when she sees that it's her mother. Pressing the answer button, she holds the phone up to her ear, "Hey mom."

" _Hi sweetheart. Just calling to check up on you. Haven't heard from you in a while."_

"I know. I'm sorry mom. I've just been really busy."

" _I figured you were,"_ Melinda replies.  _"What was that?"_ She asks, hearing Skye let a squeal.

"Sorry," Skye laughs, "I uh, I have a friend over. Quit it," she laughs, trying to shove Grant's head away from her neck. He's playfully nipping at the skin there, one of his hands resting on her leg.

" _Okay,"_ Melinda says.  _"How are you doing?"_

"I'm doing alright," Skye says calmly, having managed to shove Grant's face away from her neck. "Just a little stressed from this one class that I'm taking this semester. But other than that, I'm fine."

" _That's good to hear."_

"Yeah…" Skye trails off. "Hey mom, do you, uh, do you think you could play my song for me?"

" _Of course, little one,"_ Melinda smiles into the phone.

Skye hears shuffling around on the other end of the phone, and then the soft chords of her song making their way through her phone.

"Listen to this," she whispers to Grant, switching her phone to speaker, "It's so beautiful."

* * *

Making their way hand in hand towards the dance floor, Skye and Grant stop in the middle and turn to face each other.

"What are we going to dance to?" Skye asks her new husband. "You said that you'd handle it, but I'm really starting to worry about what you think a good First Dance song is."

Grant smiles, moving his hands to her waist, "Just wait," he whispers. "I think you're going to like what I picked out."

"I better," she tells him, "otherwise we are totally getting divorced right now."

"Already starting on the divorce jokes, I see."

"Of course," she smiles at him.

After another minute, the opening chords of their first dance song begin to play through the speakers. Skye gasps and goes wide-eyed when she realizes what song is playing. She looks up at Grant with tears in her eyes. "Is this…"

"Your song? Yeah, it is." Grant slowly begins to sway the both of them back and forth while Skye is still stunned. He gently takes her hands and places them around his neck. "I called your mom and asked if she and your dad could bring the record player so we could dance to it. I know how much you love this song, I hope you aren't mad."

"Why would I be mad?" she asks him, with furrowed brows, "This is so thoughtful. It's why I agreed to marry you."

"And here I thought you married me for my looks." Skye smiles at him, then leans her head down to rest it on his chest. "And guess what else?"

"Hmm," she responds.

"They're giving it to us as a wedding present."

Her head shoots up to look at him, "You're kidding."

He shakes his head, "Nope. I talked to the both of them, and we all agreed that you'd love to have the record player in our house. Then you can play your song whenever you want to, and you'll be able to imagine your mom sitting next to you when you listen to it, because I know how often the two of you used to listen to it together. And I know it's kind of early to be saying this, but I was hoping, that uh, that when we have kids of our own, that you'll play this song for them too, and then they will learn to love it, just as I have."

Skye looks at her husband, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I love you so much."

"I love you too. And how good did I do picking out the song?"

"You did an excellent job."

"So you're okay that I picked your song?"

She nods her head, "Yes. But it's not my song anymore?"

"It's not?" He asks her with a confused look on his face.

"No. Now it's our song."


End file.
